


Flirting with danger, just one of his specialties

by urisarang



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cobb Vanth POV, Din Djarin has touch issues, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, The Helmet Stays On, The Way respected, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, a stolen moment before the krayt dragon, but Cobb is super respectful, no beta we die like troopers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang
Summary: Cobb flirts and flirts some more.  When that doesn't seem to work he takes matters into his own hands.Quite literally.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 136
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Flirting with danger, just one of his specialties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlikeknives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlikeknives/gifts).



> Gosh, this was fun to write! Wasn't expecting to enjoy writing Cobb as much as I did, hope I got his voice down alright right for a first try. 
> 
> Sure hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. ^_____^

When Cobb had heard the news of a Mandalorian—and honest to god real one unlike him—he wasn’t sure what to expect ‘sides a fight of course. There was no way in hell he was gonna get away with wearing their armor. He knew, hell the whole rottin’ galaxy knew what their armor meant to them.

Didn’t change the fact that he needed it. That he’d grown fond of it since he traded for it so long ago. Without it he was as good as dead and so was his town so what’s a man supposed to do?

Get a drink, that’s what. Hell if he’s going out sober, he thinks as he grabs a bottle of his favorite drinks and takes a seat. He only gets a couple of swallows down before _he_ walks in.

And damn does he outshine Cobb’s Mandalorian get up—quite literally. He’s never seen that much pure beskar in his life. If he slagged his suit he doubts there would be as much as just what is in that guy’s shiny helmet.

The helmet that is looking at him expectantly. Well, hell looks like his number is finally up. Or maybe not, he thinks again as he notices the small green child being held so reverently in the Mandalorian’s arms. 

He starts talking and doesn’t stop hoping he pegged him right the second time. Launches into the sad story of this town and what do you know, the Mandalorian listens. He’s none too happy about Cobb appropriating his people’s culture by wearing the armor but he listens just the same. Gives him a chance. 

Gives the whole town a chance.

Against all odds, he’s got a deal with the Mandalorian, but as they start out things just keep getting weirder. Cobb hadn’t even known anyone other than the Tuskans themselves could deal with those massiffs, and not only that but he speaks their language? Is somehow on good terms with them?

Just who is this Mandalorian? 

Cobb ain’t never met one before—but he’s heard stories, everyone has, but they were all about how good they fought. How they were great warriors but this one goes out of his way at every opportunity to find a non-violent solution. 

Doesn’t make a lick of sense to Cobb. The guy’s problems would have been solved a whole hell of a lot quicker and easier if he used his famous skills and just took what he wanted. Not that Cobb ain’t appreciative of the man’s good nature—far from it. 

He really likes it.

Hell, the more he’s around the guy he finds himself liking the man too. He’s good at what he does, says what he means, and shows an honor Cobb hasn’t seen the likes of in many years. 

So naturally, he flirts, flirts, then flirts some more.

He’s always been a flirt, part of his charm he likes to think but it’s more than that this time. There is just something about the Mandalorian that piques his interest. An interest he makes known but the guy doesn’t seem to be picking up on it. That or he’s willfully ignoring the lingering looks, standing too close, and the entirely not subtle touching whenever Cobb passes something to him as they prepare for the attack on the krayt dragon.

Cobb doubts it is the latter, the guy ain’t shy about letting his opinions known. If he didn’t like the flirting he’d have said something by now. So it’s either the guy isn’t picking up what Cobb is throwing down—which is basically impossible with how blatant Cobb has been—or the guy isn’t sure if he should take Cobb up on it. 

Or maybe he’s just waiting for Cobb to make the first move.

Hell, they might die in the morning. Probably will if Cobb is being honest. So what does he have to lose, he thinks taking a shot of something that burns on the way down. He’s offered the Mandalorian room and board in his little house while they prep and surprisingly he had taken him up on the offer. 

Cobb’s place is anything but large, though he’s the marshall of this town he doesn’t take any more than what he needs to get by. So it’s a bit of a tight fit—but in this case, that is to his advantage here.

The sound of his glass clinking as he sets it down on the table is loud. With his mind made up and powered by good ‘ol liquid courage he struts over to where the Mandalorian is sitting in the one chair Cobb owns. 

The helmet tilts up to watch as Cobb approaches, he seems curious from what little Cobb has learned of the guy’s body language over the last couple of days. Like he’s waiting to see what Cobb will do, almost like a challenge.

Well, Cobb sure would hate to disappoint the man. 

“Now I know I have made my _interest_ more than clear so if you don’t want this? Best speak up now before it gets real awkward,” Cobb says, watching The Mandalorian very carefully. Gloved hands grip the armrests of the chair ever so slightly and he goes unnaturally still.

But he doesn’t say anything. Well, that sure ain’t a no.

Cobb, already out of his armor and in his sleeping clothes steps right up to where the Mandalorian sits stiff as a board. He looks down at him, takes one breath, and then drops down in the other man’s lap straddling his waist. 

There is a sharp intake of breath Cobb can hear over the helmet’s speakers, but still no denial. No pushing Cobb off of him. In fact, his hands find their way to his hips and hold on lightly.

Reverently almost. Well, ain’t that sweet. Guess he was just shy after all. 

“Now I don’t know how your creed works, what you can and can’t show—but I’m good with anything. And I mean that” Cobb says, his voice dropping low. “Anything at all for someone like you.” 

“I—,” the Mandalorian starts, then stops a little unsure. “Helmet and armor stays on. I’m not—I’m not good with showing myself.”

“Alright sweetheart, that’s more than fine. Can I touch you? You can touch me all you like.” Cobb says lifting his shirt off over his head. The Mandalorian makes an appreciative sound in his throat, good to know he likes what he sees. The gloved hands tightening around his waist.

“Din Djarin,” he says, it takes a moment for Cobb to get it but when he does a big smile breaks over his face.

“Din, I like it,” the name suits him. Short, to the point, but rolls off the tongue real smooth. “Nice to meet you Din, a real _pleasure_.” A modulated chuckle from the helmet at Cobb’s relentless flirting. 

“You can—you can touch under or over,” Din says after a moment his voice coming through awkward even through the speakers. “I can’t—being seen—”

“Like I said sweetheart—Din, I’m good with anything and everything. You ain’t gotta explain yourself, it’s more than alright. I ain’t gotta understand something to respect it.” Din’s hands on his hip twitch, holding just a pinch too tight for a moment before he forces himself to relax.

Whatever experiences Din has had up to this point, it seems being respected was one he’s not had often. It’s a damn shame—the nicest ones always seem to be the ones who are treated the worst. 

Well, it’s a good thing Cobb is aiming to please tonight. 

Cobb reaches for Din’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through the belt loops. He does it slowly, giving Din time to object if he needs to. He licks his lips, hands pausing above Din’s fly.

“Any surprises I might find under here? Not a deal-breaker if there is but don’t wanna make no assumptions.” Din huffs out a breath.

“Same as you I imagine,” Din answers, and Cobb is glad to hear he’s no stranger to this sort of thing. Din lets go of Cobb’s hips so that he can pull off his gloves and set them aside. It shouldn’t be hot, nothing about it should make Cobb’s blood pump even a lil harder in his veins but it does all the same.

When all you got is shiny armor to look at, any amount of visible skin is bound to become erotic. Cobb’s eyes are glued to those hands as they move back towards him. They don’t stop at his hips this time and instead move to pull at the ties on the front of Cobb’s pants.

A shiver goes down his spine as Din works his pants open, but he can’t let Din have all the fun. He presses a hand against the growing bulge in Din’s pants earning a staticy hiss. Din’s hands freeze for a moment as Cobb rubs at Din’s cock through his pants.

Din lets out an honest to god growl and he’s reaching inside Cobb’s pants and pulling him out without any further hesitance. Cobb lets out a groan as he feels Din’s hand wrap around him. Damn it sure feels good to have a hand other than his own on his cock for a change.

He basks in the feeling of Din giving him a light squeeze and an experimental stroke for a moment before he reopens his eyes. The helmet is tilted down, Din’s focus entirely on what his hands are doing. It feels good to have all of Din’s attention on him.

Din’s grip on him is careful, almost too careful if you asked Cobb. Well, there one sure fire way to cure that, Cobb thinks as he reaches into Din’s pants wanting a something to hold onto himself. 

Din lets out a gasp as Cobb’s fingers wrap around his cock and pull it free from the confines of his pants so he can take a look. Din wasn’t lying, his cock ain’t much different than Cobb's, if just a little darker, makes for a nice contrast in his pale hands he thinks. 

Makes him wish he could see more, but he knows better than to be greedy. This is already more than he was honestly expecting. 

The air between them fills with the sounds of heavy breathing and grunts as they start to stroke each other in earnest. Cobb’s thighs flex as he thrust up into Din’s hand, gently bouncing up on down while straddling Din’s legs. He wraps his free hand around the back of Din’s neck for balance and the other man makes an _obscene_ sound.

Din’s hips jerk up and a shot of precome leaks out of his cock. 

“Well, somebody sure likes that,” Cobb breathes out, half a laugh. “Damn that’s hot.” Cobb gives the back of Din’s neck squeeze and he makes another almost tortured sound—but the good kind of tortured. 

The kind that makes Cobb want to find all his buttons and push them all at once. He wants to drive Din wild until he can’t even think, just _feel_. Wants to hear nothing but the sweet sounds of pleasure coming over those speakers.

He can’t see Din’s face, can’t see the pleasure but the sounds he makes? The way his whole body trembles beneath Cobb? More than enough.

Din’s hand on his cock works faster, maybe he’s a little too pent up to make this last. Cobb can’t argue with that, he’s more than halfway gone himself already. 

He ain’t ever been with someone in full armor before, he’s a little surprised to find out how much he likes it. Yeah, he ain’t gonna last much longer himself. He sure hopes Din is up for a second, longer round after this one, but just in case he ain’t Cobb shifts his hips forward.

He bites his lip as he slides their cocks together, stifling his moan—not because he’s shy, far from it—but so he can keep control of himself a little longer. 

Din gets with the program almost immediately wrapping his hands around both of them. Cobb takes his hand off of Din’s cock on a hunch moving it up to the side of Din’s neck. Din shudders at the touch even through the layers of his high collared undersuit.

“Can I—” Cobb begins, then stops as he struggles on how to phrase his desire with a lust addled brain. Din’s helmet tilts to look up at Cobb revealing the barest sliver of skin from where Cobb’s hand has disarranged his undersuit. Instead of trying and failing to use his words, he moves his thumb tracing the edge of exposed skin.

“Unngg—” Din lurches upwards, his hips spasming as his release finds him unexpectedly. His grip tightens on Cobb in the best of ways. The sounds of Din’s ecstasy and with Din’s come as extra lubricant Cobb isn’t far behind him as he follows him over the edge of his own release.

They pant and moan as Din’s hands work to milk the last of their orgasms out of them. Drained from the unexpected, but more than welcome orgasm, Cobb leans forward resting his forehead against Din’s helmet. Din’s hips and cock twitch one last time before Din lets go of them with a satisfied sigh. 

He wipes his hand off on his armor, and Cobb would bet all the credits in Mos Peldo that he’s making a disgusted and grumpy face under the helmet at the mess on his armor. 

Cobb isn’t the least bit sorry. 

He thinks Din looks damn good defiled like this. Once Din has cleaned his hands as best as he can he reaches up returning the hold Cobb has on his neck. His body relaxing beneath Cobb even more than it already had post orgasm. 

They just hold onto each other not speaking for a time. Until Cobb can no longer help himself. He leans back so he can watch the other man’s body language.

“I don’t know what I did right, but I sure would like the chance to do it again,” Din’s speakers crack with a huff of laughter. “Please tell me you’re the type for a round two.”

Din’s hands squeeze the back of Cobb’s neck and pull him forward until his head is resting against cool beskar once more. 

“How about all night instead?” The playful happy tone over the speakers surprises Cobb. It’s the first he’s heard Din sound honestly happy. It makes him sound a thousand times sexier than he already sounded—Cobb would do a lot to hear him like this more.

“That's the best idea you’ve had all week.”


End file.
